


and they were coat mates (oh my god they were coat mates)

by orangetrees



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Confessions, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23188039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangetrees/pseuds/orangetrees
Summary: the boys get drunk and talk about ~feelings~ and stuff
Relationships: John Deacon/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> edited the whole thing bc it flows better in present tense imo

-C’mon! I gotta tell you something!  
-Can’t you tell me here? His voice is laced with amusement as he takes in the certainly more than tipsy John.  
-Nooo! John laughs.  
-Alright then, Freddie says, standing up and grabbing his coat. 

The cold air feels like little sobering ice spikes on their skin as they stand outside the pub in the frigid blue London night.  
-So, what did you want to tell me, dear?  
John looks puzzled.  
-I wanted to tell you something?  
He furrows his eyebrows in concentration.  
-Oh! His face lights up with realization and a stark blush.  
-Right! So, er… he trails off, and Freddie puts a hand on his shoulder. It’s the best his somewhat drunk mind can come up with for a comforting gesture.  
John is staring intently down at his hands, fidgeting with his rings. His face goes from a tight-lipped frown to an almost giddy smile and back again. He takes a deep breath and then pauses.  
-Come on, darling, you know you can tell me anything.  
John looks up and his eyes shine with certainty when he takes another deep breath and speaks:  
-I love you.  
Freddie smiles.  
-I love you, too.  
John’s expression turns guarded and sour in an instant.  
-No.  
-What do you mean “no”? Darling, we’re friends, of course I love you.  
-But like, John sighs in frustration, not like- like- no! His brain is playing scrabble against itself at this point and oh boy is it loosing.  
-You don’t… not- not like that.  
-Like what?  
-Like… you love Brian an’ Roger, yeah?  
-Yes.  
-Yeah. And I do too. And we’re like all “mate” with ‘em, yeah?  
-...Yes?  
-But like, with you- his last two brain cells are trying to collect the right words and also string them together into a coherent sentence. Unfortunately the alcohol had washed them away like a bloody tsunami or something. He giggles. Honest to god giggles, and then tries again.  
-I love you like… I want to kiss you, alright?  
The light slows down then. The people around them too. The wind stops blowing and the street goes quiet. Everything goes almost still and so, so calm. The words are echoing in Freddie’s mind in tune with his slowed down heart. I love you. I love you. He breathes in the crisp air and the world speeds up again.  
-I love you. Like that. Just like that, he said.  
John looks at him in a new way then. Like he had just invented a new colour. Like he had shaken both their worlds a little and toppled a Berlin wall of sorts. Like he single handedly made the birds sing and the sun rise for the first time. And maybe in this drunken state he did in a way. Maybe he reinvented them both.  
-I’m going to, John says, breaking the silence.  
-You’re going to what?  
-Kiss you. Tomorrow.  
-Why tomorrow?  
-Because you’re a romantic and you’d want to be sober. He says it with such certainty, and he’s right, of course.  
-Yeah.  
They stand there for some time, taking in what they had just heard and felt and found. Basking in the light from the streetlamps and a pale crescent moon. The cold air was almost comfortable, sobering, until it wasn’t. John shivers.  
-Oh you poor dear, you must be freezing in that shirt, Freddie says, draping his own coat over John’s shoulders.  
-Thanks, John said. Let’s get home, yeah?  
-Yeah.  
John holds up half of the coat, gesturing for Freddie to join him under the fur.  
-You’ll get cold too!  
-Alright, alright.  
And, under the same coat, warm, content and safe, they go home.


	2. oh my god they were coat mates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a continuation of the last chapter

His first thought is, as it usually is when he wakes up, “now what was that dream?”. He can still feel it lingering at the edges of his mind, the feeling of it. Gold and green, had there been an old woman? When he eventually gives up on trying to remember, John thinks about how just not right the pillow under his cheek feels. He opens his eyes and finds himself face to face with a lamp. Now, this is no ordinary lamp, this is one he had fixed for Freddie. So that’s where he is. He sits up and turns over, looking for his friend. The bed has long turned cold. John pulls a face. Early bird catches the worm. He throws his feet over the side of the bed. God, why is the floor always so damn cold here? Halfway to the kitchen he remembers his promise. “I’m going to kiss you. Tomorrow”. His heart jumps out of his ribcage right out onto the floor. His fingertips go cold. Damn his stupid drunk mouth, what had he done? Oh well, it can’t get worse than awkward. He picks his heart back up and slams it into his chest.   
Freddie is setting the table, John can see from the doorway. He’s putting out the best teacups, but only two. The strange tranquility of the kitchen is broken by Freddie whipping his head up at John’s soft knocks on the doorframe. One. Two. Three, the stage is set for the confrontation.  
-Good morning, dear. Slept well? His voice is soft as honey, as always.  
-Mm. You?  
-Oh, the usual. He pauses. You stole all the blankets.  
-Did not! John puts a hand to his chest in mock offense.  
-Prove it, Freddie says. A raise of the eyebrow, a challenge. John squints at Freddie, who shoots him one of those little disarming smiles and leans over to hug him. Puts his chin on his shoulder. John is warm and slow from sleep, but his hugs are always firm. Tucked under John’s chin, Freddie is reminded suddenly of another embrace. Of a fur coat and John’s arm slung around his shoulders. Frigid air on his face. “I’m going to kiss you. Tomorrow.” Has John forgotten? Or does he regret it? Freddie decides this is not the time to dwell on such things, and instead burrows further into John’s warmth. His arms fit so well around Freddie’s shoulders and they both wish they could stay longer as they pull apart.   
-I made breakfast, Freddie says, and they sit down to eat. They’re quiet as they put steaming tea in their cups. As the milk makes swirling clouds in it. As the toast pops up from the toaster. It’s never awkward like this, their silence. When there is something to say, it is said, when there isn’t, the quiet is comforting to them both. At last John speaks.  
-Where’s Rog?  
-Oh he’s at uni, dear.  
-Hm.  
Silence again. A magpie caws in the misty morning outside. It’s not early, per se, but the city lies dark, filled with a soft blue-ish fog. When the clock strikes eight, Freddie blurts out;  
-About what you said last night-  
John perks up. His hand stills on the butter knife. Freddie looks at John like he wants him to continue. He does.  
-Do you still- Would you still want to? John’s words feel like cold marbles in his mouth. weird. Alien.  
Freddie nods eagerly, curls bouncing.  
-God yes I- when he stands up the sleeves of his kimono almost smack the teapot to the floor- oh goodness. The pot is quickly forgotten as he takes the few brisk steps around the table to take both of John’s hands in his. He wonders if they have always fit this well in his.  
-Darling, I did tell you last night didn’t I?  
Soft brown eyes search anxious grey green. He’s not sure what he’s looking for, but he finds it sure enough. John nods and stands up. Now they’re almost eye to eye, give or take a few centimeters.  
-I love you, Freddie says again, I really do.  
-I love you, too, John almost whispers. He glances down at Freddie’s lips and then back up to his eyes, questioning. It’s easy to see when John is asking something, Freddie thinks. Or maybe it’s just to him. To him, who John says everything to, whether he means to or not. Right now he’s asking for permission. Of course, Freddie wants to say, of course, go ahead. I love you. He wants to, but he can’t speak, not when their faces are so close they’re almost touching. Not when John is looking at him like that. But John understands anyway. Freddie tilts his head up, closes his eyes.   
John’s lips are warm and gentle and taste of tea. Freddie threads his fingers through his sleep tousled hair, pulls them closer together. John’s hands come down to rest on his shoulders, and they both think ”so this is what it’s all about. This is what they feel in all the sappy movies and books and stories. This is it!”. Because it is, everything lies bare in these warm yellow emotions exchanged through kisses. The soft sigh of happiness as they fit themselves together, pressed to each other like ink to paper . This is it, love growing like bright poppies at their feet. A hand finding its place on the small of a back. This is it, like the gentle caress of a feather. Like a hurricane, sweeping everything up in the air, moving all they feel and know and love about. They have always loved each other, in different ways for different times. Like friends. Like brothers. Like something completely different. But now the cat is out of the box, the words out of the heart and the wind rises. Because now they know that this, all of this. This is it!

**Author's Note:**

> this is very short and v e r y self indulgent. might write another chapter we'll see. also i'm sorry about not updating the big boi story, i've had a whole bunch of stuff going on, mostly school-related. i might be able to finish the chapter i'm working on if school closes or we get quarantined tho!!also please tell me what you think about this!!  
> love y'all


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